If Maladaptive had a soundtrack...

My IG posts are sometimes inspired by something I blogged about. I think this is the first time I'm blogging about something I posted on IG.

Recently, I took a cue from another post I saw in my feed asking "If your book had a theme song, what would it be?" And immediately, I was like OH I KNOW THIS! Because there was a song stuck in my head the whole time I was writing Maladaptive, and that song was Sedona by Houndmouth.

Musically, it's the exact kind of song I gravitate to. It was already on my longstanding playlist where I put songs that basically give me a braingasm. I've tried to put into words what I mean, but I can't really. I guess it just comes down to my "taste in music", but that doesn't even really capture it. I can describe my taste in music, but I can't describe why certain songs make me go all squiggly inside, while others don't. 

Anyway, Sedona has always made me squiggly, but when I realized that it lyrically aligned with Maladaptive in a lot of ways, it just started playing in a permanent loop in my head until well after the book was finished. And yes, Sedona is a reference to the state of Arizona, which has nothing to do with my book, but literally everything else about it is a perfect match. I mean I could do a line by line explanation of how it relates SO HARD to Maladaptive, but that's only interesting to me, and that isn't really the point of this blog post.

There are a lot of other things I should be doing right now besides making a playlist. I should be writing, first and foremost. I should be reading books, cleaning my house... in fact, right this moment I should be getting dressed to go to a wedding reception. But no, I spent this sunny Saturday on my couch, making the following playlist, because I cannot make my brain do the things it needs to be doing.

(click here to go to the playlist on Spotify)

The playlist expands on the theme song angle and tries to answer the question "What if Maladaptive had a soundtrack?" Obviously, the first entry was Sedona. It was like a place to put that song, officially. The next songs to go on it were songs that are actually mentioned in the book, like Mr. Jones by Counting Crows and It's My Life by Bon Jovi (karaoke scene) and With a Little Help From My Friends by the Beatles, around the evening fire at River's pool party. 

The band Sparks is mentioned (Styles wears a Sparks t-shirt in one scene), and so I had to include This Town Ain't Big Enough for Both of Us, which has more than one reason to be there (could be Styles vs. River, could be Styles vs. Griffin, could be Styles vs. Cara... um Styles vs. Everybody, hello?). After that, there is an unnamed album that Styles recommends Cara, the title of which I didn't divulge in the book, but I know what that album is: Heavy Rockin' Steady by Beatchild and The Slakedeliqs. It's SUCH a California album, and so adding California Coastin' as the first song on the soundtrack was a no-brainer.

The rest of the songs are vibes. Some are more obvious choices than others. I tried to make sure each main character was represented in some way. Nearly every song on the playlist can be applied to Cara at least a little bit, since it's all her story, told in her words. But songs like Dreaming by Blondie, Space Song by Beach House, I Lost Thursday by They Might Be Giants, and Daydream by The Lovin' Spoonful all represent her inattentive ADHD and tendency to slip into daydreams, maladaptive or not. I Touch Myself by The Divinyls is a not-so-subtle nod to Cara's work as a sex toy manual writer, but it's also here for vibes of a sexual nature.

I gave Griffin Santa Monica by Everclear, which doesn't quite get to the heart of him and I'm still thinking about what else I could give him, but this song had to be here. Mr. Brightside by The Killers is also his, but he shares it with Styles. We don't get Griffin's interior thoughts, so this is my attempt to get into his head about his insecurities about Cara and Styles working together. He might have even lived this entire song in his head during the pool rescue moment. Griffin also shares You & Me Song by The Wannadies with Cara, naturally.

River got Rhinestone Cowboy by Glen Campbell, which thematically hits his country music icon status, even if he's not really a sequinned Nudie-suit kind of country music icon, and Beverly Hills by Weezer, for pretty obvious reasons. He also got Mercury in Retrograde by Sturgill Simpson, which he shares with Hannah, for astrological reference reasons, of course, even though he's skeptical of "new age" stuff. But I like it for his storytelling nature, and because it represents his departure from his signature sound toward a new sound, which is a very Sturgil Simpson kind of a thing. 

Naomi's song is a little more on the nose - She's a Rainbow by The Rolling Stones. No explanation needed there.

Willow was harder to pin down. She's such a complex character, and no one song really captures her essence. I gave her Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac, which represents her self-assuredness to the point of not bearing responsibility for anyone else's insecurity even when she's the reason for it. I think what's missing is her softness, though. I'm still looking for a song that captures that aspect of her in a way that represents her. She also got Rub Me the Right Way by Dream Hunter Monster, which she obviously shares with Griffin, the massage guru. 

What about Styles? He's another tough one that I haven't fully captured. He filters into a lot of these songs as well, since he's so connected to Cara's decisions and her life transition throughout the story. He shares Island in the Sun by Weezer with her, their shared fantasy place. Sex and Candy by Marcy Playground belongs to him for vibes. He also owns Heart to Tell by The Love Language, and this is from his perspective, his inner conflict.

And of course Hannah, who completely owns Funky Pretty by the Beach Boys (such an underrated track by them!), about a bohemian new age woman. (I almost gave her New Age Girl by Deadeye Dick because I love that song, but it doesn't really match her vibe. She's the voice of reason and compassion in this story, not the reckless one... that's Cara.) I think Hannah also shares Space Song with Cara, because she sort of represents The Universe, or at least a conduit for messages from The Universe.

What's left are the songs connected to writing, creativity, and Cara's career journey. Two David Bowie songs, both from the Low album - Sound and Vision and A New Career in a New Town both had to be there. Paperback Writer by the Beatles is a little on the nose and I tried not to put it in, but honestly, I kind of had no choice. Writer's Retreat! by Lloyd Cole... I mean, this is an interesting one, because it also belongs to Styles, while bringing Griffin into the mix.

All This and Heaven Too by Florence and Machine represents Cara's creative mindset, while Word Crimes by Weird Al Yankovic is the absurd counterbalance, reflecting her inner monologue about herself as a writer, with her technical writer brain filtering in to call her out for writing something "technically" true without precision, and the fact that she's afraid it's so bad and so wrong that she'll get arrested for it.

Finally, Hold On Tight by Electric Light Orchestra is a Hannah song that directly speaks to Cara's situation, while Overnight Sensation by The Raspberries is the flipside of that, with its ego-inflating, mind-warping hopes and expectations. It's also a nod to her project with River.

My hope is that all together, these songs kind of tell the story. You might not know the exact plot points by listening to it, but you'd kind of get what it's all about. I've sequenced them in a loosely linear way to map to the story, but the way they are shared by multiple characters across multiple moments also blurs it all into a vibe that I'm hoping comes across. What is that vibe? I don't know if I can put words to it. After all, the vibes I get will not necessarily be the same as the vibes someone else gets from their reading of it. I guess if there is one word I'd use to describe the vibe, it's "dreams".

That's a whole blog post for another time, actually. The whole "creative intention vs. observer interpretation" concept is fascinating to me. And that's why I've posted this playlist on Instagram with an invitation to anyone who has read the book to become a collaborator on the playlist. I thought it would be a fun experiment, to allow others to add songs to the playlist that represent the vibes they get from the story.

Now admittedly, not too many people have read it, and so far, none of them have accepted my invitation. But I'm hoping they just need some time to think about it before they get back to me. I love the idea of readers contributing their own spin and interpretation to the story's meaning. A playlist is the perfect way to do that, because it's inherently assigning new meanings to songs that the artists could never have intended.

Dumb idea? Probably. But I wouldn't be me if I didn't go all in on a dumb idea.

In defense of magical thinking, I have no defense.

This is the one where I admit that I may have bitten off more than I can chew.

Over the past, I don't know, week or so? Maybe the last two weeks? I've found myself being more actively online as it pertains to doing the self-promotion thing. And it's like all I can think about. It's leaving me very little time for things like work, or house stuff, or exercise, or reading, or writing.

I guess I just got tired of moping about how hard it is to find an audience for my book. And for the record, it is super fucking hard. But also, I have to admit, I wasn't really trying that hard. I mean, I was trying really, really hard to manifest it, like if I just daydreamed about it enough, it would just happen. The irony of what Maladaptive is actually about is not lost on me. 

But the magical thinking that compelled me write the book is definitely not going to help me get it out there, to the people who will love it. I mean it's out there, but they don't know it's out there, and all the yearning and wanting and wishing in the world is not going to bring them to me. I have to bring the book to them.

Cue me signing up for ALL THE THINGS.

So, I already had an Instagram, which has a small following and a few awesome people who engage regularly, and this blog that no one reads. And I had taken the plunge on a couple of ARC review platforms (BookSirens and Booksprout) which have not been very fruitful - though I do want to appreciate the one person who downloaded a review copy on BookSirens, even if they haven't reviewed it (yet).

Amid my emotional spiraling about how much I feel like a wistful girl with a guitar playing to only a few people in an otherwise empty venue, I'm trying really hard to flip the script on that perspective and be grateful for those people. They showed up. I'm glad they showed. It's not cool for me to whine to them about "where is everyone else?" They owe me nothing, and yet, there they are, and I fucking love them for it.

I guess that perspective has given me a bit of fuel. I've started posting more consistently on Instagram and started engaging on Threads. 

I've been posting more on Reddit, too, which unfortunately led to me getting banned from r/suggestabook because I got it confused with r/recommendabook where author self-promotion is allowed, but on r/suggestabook it's not, but like I said I was confused, and someone on r/suggestabook posted asking for a recommendation for a book that is almost exactly the description of Maladaptive and I got really excited and didn't check the rules and I replied and self-promoted my book and then my post got removed and I got banned, and as you can see, I'm completely over it and not having any rejection sensitivity dysphoria about it at all.

I decided to try and start being active on Goodreads, and I joined The Storygraph, and even submitted Maladaptive to a book reading challenge there. 

I started a BookBub, (the free version) although something is wonky with it and for some reason I can't seem to update my profile, so that's a thing I need to look into.

And I opted into the Smashwords Summer/Winter Sale which I was eligible for because I published through Draft2Digital, which means the eBook will be free on Smashwords for the month of July, which is cool but also, I'm really really afraid that it won't amount to anything. I mean, it won't amount to any money, that's for damn sure, but the hope is that it results in at least some visibility, and some downloads. Anyway, the banner graphics they gave me for my social media are fun, check the one at the top of the page :)

But the biggest thing that I did was join StoryOrigin, the paid version, where the entire point is to build a mailing list for a newsletter as a way to participate in group promotions with other authors. It sounded great at first, but as I've started to try and build my presence there, I feel like I've gone from treading in deep water to being completely submerged. The idea of building a mailing list and starting a newsletter is actually horrifying to me. But all signs are pointing to that being something I have to do. 

Trying to get set up is a rabbit hole through approximately 20,000 dimensions that is also an endless loop of hoops to jump through. I've set up all these landing pages, like a universal book link (which is not really universal because it only has limited links, and I already have a comprehensive UBL through D2D / Books2Read, but anyway...), a review copy link, and a link collection (basically a Linktree, which I also already have), and connected them to a StoryOrigin hosted website  I had to buy a domain for that! So now www.zinniasherwood.com is an actual thing that exists, which is actually kind of awesome even if the page is ridiculously, super basic.

I tried to join a group review promo, but the organizer hasn't let me in. It's probably because I'm new and have zero links shared or clicked and people think I'm just hitching a ride. So I started my own group promo (Funny, Weird & Unhinged Cross-Genre Indie Fiction), which amazingly, someone joined! It doesn't start until July 31st though, so I can't really start sharing that link around until about a week before the promo starts. (And yeah, I did just link it here anyway because this post is literally me just trying to organize everything in one place and get a mental handle on it all.)

The next thing is to add a reader magnet. And honestly... I am le tired. All of this is supposed to help me build a mailing list and start a newsletter by participating in group promos, but I need the newsletter and mailing list in order to participate in the the group promos, but I can't have a newsletter without a mailing list. So I'm stuck in this whirling chicken-and-egg vortex where I need the one to get the other and I just need someone to open the door a crack for me big enough to get my toe in. That's all I ask.

And I hate asking. I really do. I hate that I have to do any of this stuff. None of this is magical. None of this is what I imagined. It's hard work and it takes so much fucking time, and it makes me feel like a creep. But you know, at least I'm spending all my time designing pretty Instagram posts that only three people ever see, so I got that going for me, which is nice.

Aw man, did I just whine? Forget I said that. I'm grateful. I am. Two people bought my book on Amazon. I received my first royalty payment of $10.43 the other day. That's not nothing, and it's nothing short of amazing, actually.

Groovy, baby (but not really, though)

I’m stuck inside my own head, again, as evidenced by the fact that I CAN’T FUCKING DO ANYTHING. I keep trying to push through it by making myself start, and then abandoning whatever I’ve started because it doesn’t feel “right”. This is inevitably followed by an internal spiral where I tell myself unkind things, talk to myself in ways I would never talk to another person.

I know what this is. It’s a pattern that I’ve been repeating over and over throughout my entire adult life. It’s so much like a broken record, a “stuck groove” kind of a thing, and yet I hate that analogy because records are awesome (even if I haven’t been listening to music much or playing any records at all for a little while now).

I’m in the midst of a post-creative crash. It’s the pattern… my pattern. When I’m making something, whether it’s writing, drawing/painting, or something else as it happens from time to time, it’s like I’m high. I get completely carried away by it, and there is this feeling of expansion, and my ego kind of fills up (I was going to say inflates, which basically means the same thing, but that sounds like something pathologically concerning, when what I mean is that I get this feeling of believing in myself and the whatever it is I’m working on, which I think is a good thing).

When I finish the thing, I inevitably feel compelled to share it. I want to talk about that for a moment, because in conversations with friends, with family, even with my therapist, the question of “why” keeps coming up. Why the doing/making of the thing isn’t enough. Why I am never satisfied with having just created something and letting that be its own reward. As if there is something pathological about feeling compelled to share whatever it is that I’ve made. As if that is a pattern that needs breaking, so that I can feel like a complete human based on the act of creation alone.

But can you imagine if everyone who ever wrote a story, made a movie, painted a picture or recorded a song never felt compelled to share it? If everyone kept the art they made to themselves? What kind of a world is that, where art is made and then hidden away? It would be a world without art, literature, film, television, theater, music… The point makes itself.

There are as many reasons for making art as there are people doing it. And for some, making something is the point, and that’s amazing, I love that for them. But the fact that we have books, movies, TV shows, plays, paintings, sculptures, and songs is because some of those artists and creators felt compelled to share them. If you’re someone who enjoys those things, then asking the question “why” when it comes to the compulsion to share one’s creative pursuits with others feels kind of… I don’t know… insulting? Hypocritical, even?

Sharing is a form of connection. People connect with the world outside themselves in different ways. Clearly, I’m not the only one who is compelled to connect by sharing what I’ve made, so… why ask me “why”? And if I can commandeer that word for second, why is it wrong for me to want to share my creative pursuits, but not for others? Asking me why I feel so compelled to share my writing makes me feel dirty and ashamed.

Honestly, even the act of sharing my writing makes me feel dirty and ashamed, in a tug of war with the very compulsion to share it. So yeah, maybe that’s the big “me” problem, and shame is the at the heart of this pattern that I keep reliving. I 100% believe that no one who has ever asked me why I feel so driven to share my writing is intentionally trying to shame me. But I still 100% think it’s an unfair question to ask one person while not asking the others.

Anyway, this has gone off on a bit of a tangent. The point is that I’ve recently become aware of the pattern. I don’t know why it took me so long to see it. When I finally spotted it, it felt good to name it. And I did some exploring as to where it comes from and I’m reasonably certain I’ve identified the sources. I don’t want to get into them specifically, because this isn’t about blaming anyone else for the way I’ve internalized reactions, feedback, support, or lack thereof.

It’s not anyone’s fault that I experience Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria and that any reaction (or lack of reaction) to something I made and shared, is filtered through that veil, and because of that, accomplishments and kindnesses are immediately filed into a locked compartment where they can’t be embraced or celebrated, while silences and criticisms are amplified and solidified as “truth”.

And it’s not anyone’s fault that my brain LOVES patterns, and latches onto them for better or for worse. That’s what I’m reckoning with now. The fact that recognizing my pattern felt so powerful that I thought that would be enough to break it.

And yet, I’m just sitting here watching it happen all over again, this time with awareness of it, and it’s like, I’m not just letting it happen, I’m committed to it, somehow. Because like I said, I am enamored with patterns. They’re so satisfying to behold. I might be addicted to them. And maybe that’s a neurodivergent thing, too. If it is, I’m not aware of a name for it.

But I’m also getting super sick of it. I don’t want to slip into another multi-year creative void and resulting depression, just because that’s always what happens after I finish making something and try to put it out there. At which point, my RSD ramps up, and every reaction, or lack of one, becomes a reason for me to never try to make or share anything I’ve made ever again. Do I want people to read my stories? Fuck yeah, I do. Do I want them to love what I wrote? Of course. Do I want them to tell me they love my stories? Abso-fucking-lutely! Will I feel good about it when they do? Oh, HELL no.

I’ve recently become aware that there is a recognized term for this. Not impostor syndrome, though I’m fully aware that I’ve got a metric fuck ton of that going on as well, and that it’s related. It’s The Fear of Being Perceived. Not a particularly elegant term, but the fact that I have felt this way for most of my life (and that I can pin down the source, the moment that it emerged) made me think it was just a “me” thing. An event that “traumatized” me and is unique to my own experience. Finding out that it’s connected to ADHD and RSD has been a revelation.

I’ve put “traumatized” into quotation marks because that moment, the event, the source of this feeling that created the groove I’m stuck in, wasn’t something most people would categorize as trauma. It wasn’t physically violent, inherently malevolent, or observably dramatic. It was more insidious than that. I strongly suspect most people would roll their eyes and tell me to “get over it already”. Hell, I say that to myself! But that’s the thing I’m realizing now. It may not have been an outwardly explosive event, but it hurt me like one. And I have felt the ripples of that little drop into the ocean ever since, like a tsunami.

The tsunami fucking sucks. That’s where I am now. And what’s crazy is that I became aware of it this time, and instead of running for the hills, I stood on the beach and just watched it come and submerge me. Well, I guess not completely submerged. I’m underwater, but my head is popping up to get a breath before going under again. Maybe that’s progress? But it’s fucking exhausting. I want out of it, but I’m not that great a swimmer, and stupidly, calling for help triggers The Fear of Being Perceived.

It’s baffling and kind of mortifying to me that every attempt to share myself and my creative endeavors with others, whether it’s a blog post or an entire fucking novel, is an attempt to stand up against The Fear of Being Perceived, consciously or unconsciously… and that I get knocked down by that tsunami with every attempt. I am so done with this cycle of trying and then getting crushed by a wave of self-created internalized rejection. It’s not about the source event anymore. I’m doing it to myself. I’ve been hurting my own feelings for DECADES.

When I wrote Maladaptive, I wasn’t fully aware of this yet. I was aware of something. I knew I was writing it as an attempt to get out of my own head, pull myself out of the tsunami I’d been submerged in since a previous creative project went bust. I even gave Cara that project in the story as a way of giving it some kind of resolution. I think I thought it would manifest something. To say I believed that is probably hyperbole… maybe just hoped for it, very intensely. Whatever, I was high. Like I said, that’s what happens when I’m actively creative. Anyway, I hadn’t spotted the pattern yet, and for whatever reason, I guess I thought this time would be different.

I want to say this is the LAST FUCKING TIME. That even though the internalized rejection is telling me it’s pointless to keep trying, that no one wants what I have to give, that invisibility is my superpower/burden and the void is my comfort zone, that hurting my own feelings in the name of The Fear of Being Perceived is protecting me from some unfathomable inevitable trauma… that I’m going to take the needle off this broken record.

So Maladaptive didn’t “fix” me like I wanted it to. So fucking what? I’m just going back inside my head now to bully myself into ultimate submission? After everything I put Cara through in that story, is that what she would do? I mean, maybe for a little while until she got sick of it, but I wouldn’t let her story end like that. I couldn’t possibly. And let’s be honest. Cara Becker is probably the most egregious self-insert character of all time. If I can give her the power to heal and change, then I can give myself that power, too. Maybe I should take a page from the book of Cara. Maybe I need to let her write the next installment of my story.

But can I trust her with that? Only one way to find out... (Maladaptive 2: Inception, coming soon! No no no no no… that’s… I’m kidding, truly.)

***

How to Hurt Your Own Feelings So Nobody Else Can: 

A Guide to Successful Self-Sabotage

Prerequisites: A severe case of Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria (RSD), but if that's not available, any form of an inherently sensitive constitution will do. It also helps to have perfectionistic and people pleasing tendencies, and a high amount of naturally occurring anxiety.

Step 1: Accomplish something you’re truly proud of during your youth or another vulnerable, formative period. It can be something creative, academic, a career milestone, or you know what? Even something sports related, if you’re so inclined. I’ll allow it.

Step 2: Bask in the post-accomplishment glow. Let it wash over you, bathe in its glorious light until your ego is inflated with unreasonably high expectations for how the rest of your life should unfold.

Step 3: Receive a diminishing comment from someone you trust, like a parent, teacher, boss, or coach. Something like,” I’m so disappointed in you” or “I thought you were better than that”. If you’re really ambitious, aim for a combination of diminishing comments from multiple trusted sources, to ensure a compound ego fracture.

Step 4: Relive the painful event in an endless loop for an extended period of time, to etch it into your mental, emotional and physical being. Flashbacks are a great way to expediate the trauma-forming process.

Step 5: Since the accomplishment is tied to your self-perceived identity and the expectations of your family and friends, pretend that the diminishing comments had no impact on you while you continue pursuing your goals.

Step 6: Willfully undermine your own future success by aiming low and making yourself as small as possible to prevent disappointing yourself, and most importantly, the individual(s) who bestowed the diminishing comments upon you, even if they are no longer in your life. Repeat steps 4 to 6 as many times as needed until your heart is irreparably broken and your soul is a wasteland of unrealized potential and crushed dreams.

Expected outcome: Completion of these steps will ensure that all subsequent accomplishments feel like failures, giving you the illusion of control as you ease into a self-soothing pattern in which you both seek and reject external validation while upholding the internalized narrative that you are, in fact, a disappointment!

WARNING: Not recommended for... anyone. Before attempting these steps, check to make sure that you have a functioning Sick of Your Own Bullshit Meter™ installed as a prophylactic survival measure.